Untouchable
by Cadence's Way
Summary: He wanted her, but of course, she didn't want him. Caught up in a war, would that stop him?


**Untouchable**

Montague

She wasn't like the other girls. She didn't watch him, or giggle when he strode by her in the hallways. She didn't twist her long, mahogany locks and pretend to ask him something important and technical about quidditch just to get his attention. In fact, he was pretty sure she had never even attended one of his matches. She didn't huddle in the cold rain with the rest of the broom bunnies, stupidly offering him their house scarves to bring him good luck.

Luck, as if he needed it. He was the best quidditch player at Hogwarts…well, except for fucking Potter, but he was a Gryff and didn't count. Alexander Montague was the Slytherin Quidditch Captain and the lead Chaser on the team. Professional scouts came from other countries to see him play. Every bloke on his team wanted to be him and every witch wanted to shag him. Except her…

Montague ran a hand through his thick curly hair and continued to glare at Rebecca Williams across the room. She thought she was hidden, tucking herself into the tiny alcove at the back of the common room, but he had the only seat in the house with a perfect view of her. Unfortunately, it also happened to be a popular spot, with two big squishy sofas in front of the marble fireplace. Currently, the sixth year females were lolling around the couches and chatting up Montague's fellow seventh years. Deanna Parker was perched on Cassius Warrington's lap, blushing like a giant tomato and obviously enjoying whatever Cassius' hand was doing stuck up her skirt. Will Derrick, Cade Davenport, and Titus Bole were plying three of Deanna's friends with Fire whiskey and would probably take turns shagging them later in their room. Clarissa Osgood, Montague's regular shag, was telling him some asinine tale, but damn it to Hades if he was paying her any attention.

No, all of his attention was focused on one person…the one person in this whole fucking school who never so much as glanced at him. Sweet Salazar, it irritated him! Did she think she was above him? Did she think he didn't notice her? What _was_ she thinking?

It had all started on the Hogwarts Express that September. Montague had come back to school, puffed up with pride. His Captaincy had been announced and witches were swooning over him. This was exactly what he expected his seventh and final year at Hogwarts to be.

Montague was looking for his mates and had opened the compartment door of a random carriage, where he found Rebecca by herself. She was sitting silently on the leather seat, her uniform perfectly pressed. Her long mahogany locks were draped over her shoulders, her ivory hands folded in her lap. She glanced up at him, her hazel eyes flickering from him to the door and then back to the rolling countryside.

He was astonished. She continued to sit there like some life-size china doll, not showing one ounce of emotion. Montague felt as if he'd been slapped. Her cool indifference towards him was like a bucket of icy water flowing over his skin. Until that very moment, everyone had always given him the time of day. Heir to one of the largest wizarding fortunes in England, wicked at Quidditch, clever, ambitious, and handsome to boot…he had never wanted for attention.

His mild curiosity had grown over the past few months and turned into a full blown obsession. Why didn't she pay him any regard? They had several classes together, but she always sat at the front with the Ravenclaws. She was either to be found in the library studying or working on her self-directed project with Madame Pomfrey in the infirmary. He knew she wanted to be a medi-witch in the worst way, but there was no way her Father would allow it. Montague had made it his business to learn as much as possible about her.

_Why? What about her fascinates me? It's not as if she is drop dead beautiful or has an enormous rack. She doesn't play Quidditch or hang out with the popular girls._ And yet,

he yearned to talk to her, to say her name, to hear her voice…fuck, it was driving him mad!

"Alex…Alexander! Are you listening to me at all?" Clarissa screeched, her manicured nails sinking into his burly forearm.

Montague shook her off angrily as he stood. "Sod off Osgood. You may be great in the sack, but I'll be a Hufflepuff if you think I am actually interested in anything you have to say," he declared in a loud voice, causing a multitude of shrieks and laughs from the others.

Clarissa glared at him as she crossed her arms and sunk back into the black leather sofa. "I guess someone doesn't ever plan on getting laid again," she hissed venomously, her pride wounded.

"Please," he snorted. "You know ten other witches would be lined up in a minute to take your spot in my bed, should I make it available. In fact, maybe I should hold auditions," he added, watching with satisfaction as Clarissa's eyes became downcast. _Not so high and mighty now. _As if, she would be the one to have a hold on him! No female would get her claws into him, no sir!_ Well, perhaps_… With a glance at the back of the room, Montague noticed that Rebecca was no longer in her usual spot and cursed inwardly.

Rebecca

He was glaring at her again. Sweet Morganna, what had she done to offend him? Rebecca tried to tuck herself further into the corner, hoping to shield herself from his penetrating dark eyes. Inwardly, she chided herself. Rebecca knew she should have stayed in the library tonight, but she really wanted some tea and Madame Prince would be on her like an angry kneazle if she had liquid near the mad Librarian's precious books.

That's how she had found herself holed up in the Slytherin common room for the evening, tea in hand, and a book on the central nervous system in her lap. Like she could study, with _him _there…glowering at her from afar while his current slag spewed rubbish.

Rebecca ducked her head and attempted to concentrate. She didn't understand it. Ever since their brief interaction on the Hogwarts Express in September, she noticed him watching her. It had started out inconspicuously at the beginning…a glance here and there in class, but it seemed to have grown and taken on a life of its own. His dark eyes were on her all the time, watching her every move, recording ever detail of her lonely existence. It was as if the hairs on the back of her neck were at constant attention. His eyes, _oh god his eyes…like liquid molasses, dissecting everything and giving nothing of the owner away_, pained her. Dismantling her bit by bit…breaking her down to dust…to nothing.

Her reverie was interrupted. At the sound of his voice, she glanced up, thankful that his eyes for once were not on her. She watched in fascination as he belittled Osgood. He could be so cruel and heartless, trodding over other people's feelings like dirt. Typical Slytherin male, just like her Father and five older brothers.

_Father…ugh._ He had written again…an angry missive detailing her shortcomings and his annoyance with her extra studies. Donovan Williams thought it was high time his youngest child and only daughter should concentrate on finding a nice pureblood to marry instead of shoving her head in more books. He was beginning to think she really wanted to end up as a spinster aunt, forced to run around after her oldest brother's pack of pureblooded brats. Donovan had warned her. Rebecca had one year from graduation to find a suitable husband or it was off to Damon's estate in Wiltshire, where his wife Petranella was expecting their sixth child.

Sweet Hesperides! She could barely stomach Petranella and her horribly behaved children during the holidays. Rebecca couldn't imagine being forced to live with them. She shuttered. Marriage seemed the only option, but who in Hades would marry her? She held no high opinion of herself and knew she was plain-looking. Mousy brown hair that would never stay straight, pale skin, and unremarkable eyes added nothing to her appearance. She was on the shorter side, with a lean figure, and barely any breasts. Rebecca needed glasses to read and had a tendency to snore…_Merlin's beard, I probably will end a spinster!_


End file.
